


Sleepless

by CharWright5



Series: House of Wolves [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Fluff, Gunnar needs a hug, Original work - Freeform, Other, Werewolves, twin feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 09:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10487283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5
Summary: "'Misery loves company,' she thought of the old adage, sipping her tea once more, careful not to burn her tongue."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another random exercise in character development for my OCs, requested by Tamara who wanted Rowyn to give Gunnar a hug.

The thing with being a Shifter was that your internal body clock was backwards to that of a human. Meaning while all the world was awake and going about their business, Shifters were sleeping.

Or at least most of them were.

Rowyn wasn't sure when exactly Shifters had become nocturnal. Maybe they'd always been that way. Maybe it was a trait that had developed over time. Either way, she figured it had to do with their need to hide their true nature and it was easier to do just that when you weren't around humans who would perceive you as a monster solely because movies had been giving them a false idea of what a Shifter was like, painting them as monsters hellbent on chaos and destruction, killing, pillaging, raping.

She suppressed a shudder as she stood in the large kitchen of her family's home in Northern England, their home for the past five years. She'd initially been wary of the move, as she had been with all of them, but understood the reasons why. Being part of the ruling family of Europe, they had to be accessible to all of their people, allow more Wolves to reach them easily. Not to mention the fact that they'd stopped aging around twenty-five, allowing them to pass as about thirty or so at the eldest, and people would notice the lack of physical changes. They could only stay in one place for so long before the humans began to grow suspicious.

But each move made her nervous, worried they'd be going some place with another violent Pack unhappy with what they're doing or refusing to follow Arik's rule or crude barbarians who kidnap females to use as slaves or sell to the highest bidder.

She shuddered harder, closing her eyes against the onslaught of images that thought brought her, clutching at her head and taking deep breaths. She was fine, she was safe. Their new home brought no new threats and even her background minor worry over moving too close to the English Alpha Pack had been unfounded.

Not that she had anything against them. She respected Peter as an Alpha and liked his Mate Timothy. She was even loose friends with his Beta, Elizabeth--whose email she still had to respond to. The problem was with Elizabeth and Rowyn's brother Keir. Things tended to get pretty tense when the two of them were in the same room and Rowyn was glad they managed to avoid that stresser.

Thinking about that pettiness was the perfect distraction that she needed and she shuffled her way over to the stove, slippers scuffing audibly against the wood floor. She filled the kettle and flipped on the stove before setting about making a cup of tea, a familiar scent hitting her nose.

Peering through the large bay window, she had to squint against the bright light of the day, her eyes designed more for the darkness. The noon sun shone down, scorching the green grass and the surrounding trees, but it was the figure on the brick patio that she focused on, his back to her as he sat on the edge by the grass.

Her twin brother Gunnar was probably the only person she knew who was more damaged than her. Not that he ever talked about it or told anyone the exact details but it didn't take a genius to know that being shipped off to boot camp at ten then sent to war at twelve didn't make for an easy life. He spent over two centuries with the Wolf Warriors, fighting, killing, surviving when others didn't.

The years leading up to his exile hadn't been the happiest but there'd still been some warmth there, especially between the two of them. Giggles as they played hide and seek, jokes told in their own secret language, smiles and bright eyes and flushed cheeks from running around.

But since he returned to them ten years prior, that warmth had been completely frozen over, the light in his eyes dulled to nothing. He didn't smile, rarely if ever spoke, spent more time alone than with the rest of the Pack. He was completely withdrawn and numbed out to everything, the only expressions he wore were that of stoicism, anger, or pain--the last usually coming when someone physically touched him.

But Rowyn was no stranger to trauma herself, knew what it was like to feel like someone else had extinguished that inner-light, that inner-warmth. She knew all too well the desire to be alone, the discomfort of being touched, the dissociation and disconnect with people around you because they didn't get it.

But Gunnar got it.

He didn't have to say he did and she didn't have to say she understood him. They just knew it instinctively.

The kettle whistled as the water reached its boiling point and she removed it from the hot ring before it woke anyone else up, her three eldest brothers all fast asleep upstairs. She turned off the stove and poured the water into her cup, adding the milk and sugar to taste before squeezing the teabag to get as much flavor of possible. A quick clean-up then she grabbed a bottle of water out the fridge, knowing Gunnar would appreciate it more.

The sun was warm on her skin, heating the flesh exposed by the nightgown she wore with its thin straps and mid-thigh length. Her slippers scuffed against the brick and while Gunnar made no move to acknowledge her presence, she knew he was aware of her coming closer.

Rowyn carefully lowered herself down on her brother's left, handing him the bottle without a word. He gave her a slight nod as way of thanks, unscrewing the top and taking a drink. She blew on her tea, inhaling the soothing scent of chamomile she was hoping would help her fall back asleep, sipping daintily while her twin gulped noisily beside her.

Silence was comfortable between them, words never necessary. Even when they were kids, they could just share a look and know exactly what the other was thinking or feeling. It was the same now, with them both over two-fifty, both of them knowing their minds were in far off places neither could reach yet somehow were able to find comfort in just being beside someone who's suffering was similar.

' _Misery loves company_ ,' she thought of the old adage, sipping her tea once more, careful not to burn her tongue.

Long moments passed by, Rowyn enjoying the sounds of summer bleeding into fall: birds chirping and insects buzzing, noises she usually missed out on. Her toes played in the grass, her hands curled around her tea cup as she drank, long black hair tickling her with the light breeze that blew up every now and then. She felt everything warm her back up and soothe her, melting away what had originally woken her up in the first place.

She finished her tea sitting there, placing her cup to the side and waiting. She felt better, ready to try the sleep thing again, body lethargic and drowsy, but Gunnar wasn't. Tension still gripped his every muscle and his breathing was shaky every now and then. And on top of that, was the way Rowyn's wolf just seemed to know he wasn't okay, that he needed her even if he didn't say it.

It was another long time before he spoke and even then it was a low whisper edged with a harsh rasp from barely talking and emotions too heavy to give name to.

"It's his birthday today."

He didn't need to explain. Rowyn knew exactly who he was talking about. On one rare occasion nine years ago, he'd actually opened up about his source of upset, explaining that he'd had a close friend in the Warriors that had died in the raid that had helped free her. Diego, she remembered. A Spanish born Wolf who'd been more of a family to Gunnar longer than those he shared blood with.

Rowyn said nothing, just slipped under his arm and held him, head on his shoulder. A shudder escaped him but he still wrapped his arm around her, resting his head on top of hers as she nuzzled in close. She was the only one who was allowed to touch him, the only one--besides their late mother--who'd ever hugged him and from the way he gripped her tight but gently, she knew he needed it.

If only he'd allow it to happen more often.


End file.
